Age, a number…

Do I dare imagine, in all audacity

That age would just be a number for me?

May I dream that at the age of sixty

I would be a diva, confident and sassy?

I wonder if my gray hair and wrinkles would give me

Grace, and an air of wisdom that the world could see..

I wonder if the cumulative wealth of experience

Would lend as much charm as youthful exuberance

Sometimes these hopes of aging with grace

With fears of aging poorly do get replaced

I get anxious that more and more cynical I would be

In an increasingly divided, fractured society

I wonder if poor health would take its toll

I worry that aging would mean my downfall…

Only time will tell what life has in store

I know I have so much more

To accomplish in the next decades few

Hope I live my life, being to myself true…